The Don Italian Novels & Stories

{"You are my fucking blood, Luciano Romano. You know I'm not a huge fan of trust" Luciano wanted peace to reign. He didn't want to have issues with his cousin. The only person that took him and his siblings in, rather than murdering them just like he'd done to their father. “Okay allora, va bene, Don. Mi dispiace di essermi avvicinato a lei. Non succederà più." {"Okay then, fine, Don. I’m sorry I went close to her. It won't happen again."}

“Have you found my grandson?” the don asked the two men sitting tensely across him in the courtyard of his villa. Though the question was asked softly, it held a menace to it. The two men were fidgety as they were very apprehensive of how the don would take their report. Impatient of their answers, the don flicked his wrist and his whip was speedily in his hands. The two gentlemen quaked in their boots. They know the sting of that dratted whip as they were the recipient more than once in their growing up years. They hated that they have to kowtow to his every demand. If only they could find that very precious grandson and get rid of him permanently, but alas, they have scoured Italy to no av

Caleb levelled his gun at the Italian as he burst through the door, ‘You messed with the wrong guy.’ He snarled turning to shoot one of Lucian’s men stupid enough to rush him, ‘Did you think I would sit back while you took what is mine? Without any warning he shot the Don in his knee then stood over him, ‘Don’t ever fuck with me again. Leave the country immediately. Get on your fucking plane and go home to Italy or I will kill the fucking lot of you’ He snarled and looked across at his men, Anthony was gently picking Trina up from the floor and he gasped at the cut on her head.

“That’s helpful. Did you overhear them say anything specific? Anything that stood out?” Sylvania hesitated. “Yes,” she said quietly. “One of them said something like… ‘The Don will be pleased.’ It sounded important, like whoever this ‘Don’ is, they were working for him.” Kamala went silent on the other end of the line, her mind racing. She knew the name “The Don.” It wasn’t just a name; it was a title; a shadowy figure tied to organized crime, someone who operated in secret and held power over a dangerous network. This wasn’t just a random robbery; this was the Mafia.

“Don Marino, it was Dante’s request to be left alone…” “A request you should have ignored!” he barked. The room grew quiet. “You left my son alone to be killed by a nobody—a worthless death—killed by an old man on the streets of Sicily!” he yelled. “A nobody killed my son. He was going to be Don…” He chuckled dryly, hands shaking, trying to control his anger but failing at it. Everyone watched the Don. He was always a symbol of control and composure—now not so much. They watched as he unraveled before them. He still hadn’t shed a tear.

That made me nervous again. As soon as they saw Dad, they left. I was relieved when they were out of sight. After that, Marco greeted his cousin Danil Kirovsky, who had just arrived. Danil is the leader of the Kirovsky family in Russia. He came with his mother, Sarah Moretti-Kirovsky, who is part of the Moretti family too.

I see Elio as the sibling I never had. I still remember vivid the day, Elio was so nervous and scared to meet the Don and his woman. We met outside Marco's office that day, he was begun telling me how scared he was without knowing I was The Mafia Don's Woman. “I want to go with you.” I murmured. “You can't, it's too dangerous.” Marco refused bluntly. “Please......” I begged, blinking my eyes like a cute little doll. “Please Marco, I promise I will be good.” pleaded.

His eyes immediately looked away from her, well-fed of the rumors of how Don's possessiveness blazed for her. He adjusted the opened laptop in his hands, taking it to the awaiting Donavan Frantino himself. When he took in Don's features, he was yet again reminded of the grave circumstances Frantino's were in. His digressing seriousness returned as he urgently turned the screen towards Don before settling it on his table. "I am trying my best but I-" his specific remarks were abruptly interrupted by Don's order in Italian, speak in italian, Rocco felt confused for a second before understanding Don's intent. It seemed that Don was adamant on keeping all business conversations in Italian, never

I growl, nudging Maxwell to hold his mouth open. I stand abruptly, kicking my seat back. I lean down, my face inching very close to his. "My name is Don Matteo. I am The Godfather of Italy and I am the head of the Denaro famiglia. No one, absolutely no one is allowed to touch the things I've marked as mine and that includes my wife and my children!"

She told herself it was just another weapon in her arsenal, nothing more. At precisely eight o'clock, Sofia walked into Salvatore's. The upscale Italian restaurant was a known haunt for the city's elite, both legitimate and otherwise. She felt eyes on her as she made her way to the maitre d'. "I'm meeting Mr. Moretti," she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. The maitre d' nodded, a knowing look in his eyes that made Sofia uncomfortable. "Of course. Right this way, signorina."